Whoa! That's a great big admission. Am I ready to blog about this? Okay. Before I lose my nerve...
Let me clear some details out from the get go. I am a gay man. I am a sexually active gay man. You may have deduced that based on the fact that I have syphilis. Listen, we hardly know each other, so let's not start judging now.
First impressions...
I have a boyfriend and we're in an open relationship. We're both fairly careful. But apparently not careful enough. See? I already said it, so you don't have to. I'm cutting you off at the pass.
We decided that we want to start having unprotected sex with each other. We're both consenting adults, who don't have anal sex with anyone other than each other. We've been together for two years. We're committed to each other and sex without condoms feels good. I'm not advocating for barebacking. But we feel like it's a deeper part of our commitment to each other.
So we decided to be responsible and both get tested. Actually, we've been talking about it for a while now and just haven't gotten around to doing it. My boyfriend, Keith (that's what we're calling him), had to have some blood work because he was having some skin issues. He had the lab do a whole round of testing on HIV and STDs. He came out clear.
So I decided that I would get my tests done so he could start cumming inside of me.
Let's get something out of the way here before we get in too deep. I'm crass. Yes, I could have said something more romantic, like--
Make Love?
Sure. I could have said that we want to be tested so we can make love without condoms. But that's not what two fit, healthy, and in-love individuals say to each other while they're in the throes of passion. You say, "I want you to come inside of me." That's it!
He went on tour. He's a musician. And I decided that while he was gone, I would get tested so by the time he got back, I'd be in the clear and he could...
Oh, just say it! You've come this far already!
Come inside of me. Doesn't that sound inviting?
For some reason, I decided to wait until he got back. The day after he got back. I told Keith that I had gotten tested because I wanted us to have unprotected sex.
Thank you! All I'm asking for is a little less vulgarity.
People often talk about the little voice inside of one's head. That's my little voice. The one in the italics.
Hello! It's nice to be heard.
I felt great about myself. I felt like I was doing something responsible.
The guy at the free testing center for the Gay and Lesbian Health Center had a series of questions for me. The normal ones that he asks everybody.
- How many sexual partners have you had in the past month?
- Do you have a boyfriend?
- Do you have anal sex?
- Do you use poppers?
- Why have you and your partner decided to wait two years before having unprotected sex?
"Is that an official question?" I asked.
"No. Just curious."
I didn't realize that the counselors could ask questions just because they wanted to know. But I answered anyway. "Well..." Okay, I tried to answer. "You know...I don't really know. It just felt like time. I wish I had a better answer."
It was a great question. If we've been together for two years, why haven't we done this sooner? With both of my ex-boyfriends that I had unprotected sex with, we didn't wait longer than six months. But anal sex hasn't really been a huge part of our relationship. So it didn't seem like too big of an inconvenience (a word you'll be hearing a lot more of), so we haven't gotten around to it before this. He's fucked me a good number of times. I fucked him once. In Hawaii, on a big family vacation. We've talked a lot about it, but with his gigging schedule and my...well, my...I seriously don't have a good answer to that. We waited until now. That's all I can say.
I got the rapid test that they give you by swabbing the inside of your mouth. That came back negative.
I had blood drawn. That is supposed to test for the rest of the STDs and it is a better indicator of HIV. Although, the rapid test would have me cleared for up to three months ago.
They told me they would only call me if they had news. "No news is good news, in this case."
Famous last words.
Flash forward five days and I was having lunch by myself. I'm reading Insatiable by the food critic Gael Greene, which is all about being insatiable with love and food. How prophetic.
I had missed a phone call from a 323 number an hour before and had gotten a voicemail. I figured it was someone calling about work. I'm an out of work writer who is doing some freelancing on the side right now. I dial my voicemail and punch in my passcode.
"This is Johnny from the Center. I'm calling with results."
Uh oh. I didn't even think about what it could be. I didn't run the last of the STDs I could have or if I was HIV positive. I just called him back right away.
"Your test for syphilis came back positive." Johnny explained to me that meant I would have to have three shots of penicillin given once a week for three weeks. I should start my treatment tomorrow...blah blah blah...could I come in tomorrow?
I said yes. We decided on a time. Johnny told me that it was treatable and curable. I confirmed that I didn't have any symptoms. He told me that I should let my boyfriend know right away. He also told me that I should let anyone I've had sex with know.
Here's the problem. I'm in an open relationship. I've been blowing guys right and left since my boyfriend was out of town.
That's not true.
I'm just being funny.
Be honest.
I had oral sex with some guys when my boyfriend was out of town. Because I was on Grindr, I didn't really have a way of letting these guys know. But I had hooked up recently with a friend of Keith's and mine. Let's call him Tyler. Tyler and I have hooked up twice without my boyfriend. But Keith fully knows what's going on. Keith has hooked up with Tyler more than I have without me. Tyler's twenty-five. I knew that he was going to freak out.
I called Keith first, of course. It didn't go poorly. But I could tell that Keith was being measured. He was concerned and worried. I told him he needed to go get tested and that we would talk about it later. Keith told me he loved me before he got off the phone. I appreciated that. But I also know that Keith doesn't always tell me he loves me when we're fighting or he's mad at me. So I know that Keith is just saying it because he feels like it's the thing he should say. I know he's being supportive and he does love me, but this strikes me. And it scares me a little bit.
Keith's an amazing boyfriend and incredibly patient. Have I worn his patience down? Is this the straw that breaks the camel's back?
I can't tell because he's being way too nice to me.
I can't tell because he's being way too nice to me.
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